


The Hidden Truth

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Art, Gay Romance, Love, Lust, M/M, Mystery, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: Deputy Jeddrick Curdy gets called to the scene of a robbery. Not only is he intrigued by the crime itself, he's also intrigued by the victim of the crime, as well...





	

A/N: Somebody ratted me out to Weebly, my website builder, and they banned my fan fiction site because it contains adult material, which apparently is against their TOS. So if you can't find it anymore, don't be surprised. I'll just put my fan fiction stories up here instead a bit at a time, when I get access again to the computer that they're stored on. My friend/roommate had a family emergency in Arizona, and she took the laptop the stories are stored on with her. I'm also stepping up transferring all of the stories off of my original fiction site to here, since at any time somebody might point out to Weebly that it also contains adult material, and they'll ban that as well. -DL

Deputy Sherriff Jeddrick Curdy answered his radio. “Yeah?” he said.

 

He heard Dolores' voice answer. “We just had a guy call in from Serenity Lake. He said that his cabin was broken into while he was away at his grandfather’s funeral. He scared them off when he returned early, but they managed to get away with some of his stuff. Sherriff wants you to go and check it out.”

 

“Okay,” he grunted. “Which cabin? There’s dozens on the Lake.”

 

“The one at the end of the dirt road, that used to be the Hollister summer place. You know it?”

 

“Yeah, I know where it is. I’m on it, Dolores.” He heard her acknowledgement before he replaced the radio in its cradle. He started his patrol car and drove out of the quiet lay-by that he often used when he wanted someplace to eat his lunch without being disturbed. It was a twenty minute drive to Serenity Lake, the aptly named large body of water that attracted tourists in droves. Its glossy surface was seldom even ruffled by the wind, and the peaceful silence was a balm to the spirits of folks coming from the noisy, crowded big cities. They didn’t get calls very often from Serenity, Jeddrick mused to himself. Criminals didn’t want to waste their gas driving out there, especially not when there were so few people that they’d be spotted almost right away if they were doing anything suspicious. Hard to case a place when you stood out like a sore thumb.

 

 

He finally turned off the paved road and onto the dirt one that meandered around Serenity Lake. He passed dozens of cabins big and small, and frowned a little as he wondered why the thieves had bypassed all of these places to go straight for the one at the end, which was neither the biggest nor the fanciest residence on the Lake. Could it be that they’d known that the owner was away? That was a distinct possibility. He gritted his teeth as his car’s wheel sank into a rut. The road was due to be graded before the summer guests really started to arrive, but that wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks. For now, it was full of potholes and ruts, not to mention slushy where the snow had recently melted. He drove with care, and finally saw the cabin in question appear ahead of his cruiser. The dirt road didn’t entirely encircle the lake; it ended here, and beyond the small rustic cabin a dense forest started up instead. A small circle in front of the cabin was the true end of the road, and he pulled his cruiser up and stopped the engine. He got out of the car, looking toward the cabin.

 

The front door was open, and he distinctly heard a loud wail from within. Jeddrick’s gun cleared its holster swiftly, and he darted toward the house with it in his hands. Had the thieves returned? He arrived on the porch and peered inside, while turning his body a little to provide a smaller target. “Sherriff’s Department!” he barked. “Come out with your hands up!”

 

Startled silence, then a single figure came out of the shadows and stepped toward the door. Hands were raised into the air, but not all the way since they would have hit the door frame. Jeddrick blinked as the tallest man that he’d ever seen in his life outside a basketball court came hesitantly toward him. “Don’t shoot,” a rather soft voice said urgently. “This is my cabin! I called in the robbery,” he added worriedly.

 

Jeddrick warily studied him, but when the man didn’t make any threatening moves, he lowered his gun and said: “All right. What’s your name, Sir?”

 

“Umm, Benjamin Hockness. But everybody calls me Benji,” the giant said, still in that incongruously soft voice. He wasn’t only tall; he was strongly built with wide shoulders and a big frame. At 5’10’, Jeddrick felt dwarfed by him. And yet those gentle, quiet tones came out of his mouth and effectively killed any first impression that you got just from looking at the man.  
“Please step out here and tell me what happened, Mr. Hockness,” Jeddrick said, re-holstering his gun but not taking his hand away from it completely.

 

The big man stepped out into the sunlight, revealing a face as gentle as the voice. A pair of eyes like a spaniel’s met Jeddrick’s own pale blue ones. “I was away,” he began, waving a hand at the Range Rover parked further along the track from Jeddrick’s cruiser. “At my grandfather’s funeral. He died of cancer about a month ago. I was supposed to stay a few more days, but I came home early because there was a piece that I really needed to work on. When I got home, I saw that the door was open and I heard sounds from inside. I yelled and ran toward the door…”

 

“That wasn’t really smart,” Jeddrick said, interrupting him. “Those burglars could have been dangerous.”

 

The big man looked sheepish. “I know that, I just lost my head. All of my paintings were inside, you see…”  
“You’re an artist, then,” the deputy said. He wasn’t surprised; many of the other residents on the Lake were artists as well, drawn here by the beauty and peace that allowed them to work without being disturbed.

 

A nod. “Yeah. And I was worried that they’d steal or hurt my paintings, you know? So when I got to the door, I saw two guys inside looking in the cupboards and stuffing anything that they could carry into duffel bags. I yelled, and they jumped and then ran out the back door. I chased after them, and then I stopped because I realized that they might be dangerous and that I could get hurt. Then I called the Sherriff’s Office to report the break-in, and they said that they’d send somebody out.” This succinct recital ended as Jeddrick studied the front door.

 

It looked like they’d broken the front lock off rather than trying to pick it. Then one or both had applied their boots to it to break the door in. Benji here would be paying for a new door –and he’d suggest that the man get a deadbolt lock and a steel-core door next time around. He stepped past the flustered artist and into the cabin. “Will you be able to give me a list of what was stolen for my report?” he asked as he did a circle around the small living room, noting that cupboard doors had been opened and the contents ransacked, but that the couch cushions hadn’t been pulled up or slashed. The thieves hadn’t been looking for stashes of cash, then. Many people hid those in or under cushions, and most thieves knew that. What had they been looking for, then? Because it sure seemed like they’d been looking for something, and not just grabbing whatever they could sell.

 

“I think so,” Benjamin Hockness said dubiously. “But I don’t care about anything else that they took – I just want you to get my Granddad’s paintings back!” he cried in agitation, running a hand through his hair.

 

Jeddrick turned to look at him. “Your granddad’s paintings?” he repeated.

 

The artist nodded vigorously. “My Granddad was an artist like me,” he explained. “Except I do landscapes and he did portraits. When he was in WWII, he did a bunch of portraits of the guys in his squad. He gave me five of them before he died because he said that I could appreciate them. I was thinking of donating them to a museum as a memorial of him and his time in the Army. I’d stored them in my studio, but just now I discovered that two of them are missing!”

 

Jeddrick’s sandy-blonde brows shot up. “They just took some of your grandfather’s paintings? None of yours?” he said.

 

Benjamin nodded again. “Yeah! And I don’t know why, none of them was worth much! Granddad never painted professionally,” he explained, “So he wasn’t known anywhere. They’d get more for some of mine, because I’ve had gallery showings and things like that. I don’t get it,” he said plaintatively. “Why would thieves steal my Granddad’s paintings? And they had to have gone through all of my stored paintings to find them, since they weren’t out and hanging on the wall.”

 

“Which means that they were specifically looking for those paintings,” Jeddrick remarked thoughtfully. “I wonder why?”

 

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t get this at all. But do you think there’s any hope of getting them back? They’re the only things that I really care about,” Benjamin said anxiously.

 

Jeddrick hesitated to tell him the truth, which was that unless the thieves were complete imbeciles they seldom recovered stolen property. Still, there was some hope with something as distinct as the paintings. It wouldn’t be easy to fence those. But if the thieves had been looking for those specifically, he doubted that their intention had been to fence them anyway. He sighed. “I can’t give you any promises here, Mr. Hockness,” he told the artist, whose face fell. He looked like a giant kicked puppy.

 

“Oh, man,” he muttered. “This is awful. Poor Granddad. First to die of cancer and now THIS.”

 

Jeddrick’s lips twitched a little. He sincerely doubted that dead grandpa cared about his paintings getting stolen. “Anyway, let me just take down a list of what was stolen,” he said, producing a notepad and a pen. “Then you can file a claim with your insurance company once I’ve filed my report.”

 

“All right,” the artist said miserably, glancing around his rifled cabin. “Oh, you didn’t say what your name was,” he went on with a glance over his shoulder at Jeddrick.

 

“It’s Deputy Sherriff Jeddrick Curdy,” he replied simply.

 

“Jeddrick? That’s interesting. It’s pretty unusual.”

 

“Yes it is. But it was the name of a great-grandfather who fought in the Civil War – on the losing side, I might add – so I got stuck with it. My family used to live south of the Mason-Dixon Line,” he went on as he set his pen to paper. “Now about that list?”

 

“Right, right. Umm…They took my IPod, my Blackberry, some silver candlesticks that were on the mantle over the fireplace – they belonged to my Grandma – a little silver snuff box that was an antique; it was in that cupboard,” he pointed to one of the opened cupboards against one wall. “And a gold pocketwatch that was in my bedroom. But the weird thing is,” he said, lowering his voice to a confidential level, “That I keep some money in that cookie jar right there,” he pointed at an ornate and tacky-looking Buddha cookie jar sitting serenely on the divider between the living room and the kitchen. “And they didn’t take that or even open the jar.”

 

Jeddrick frowned. Between that, and the fact that they hadn’t disturbed the couch cushions, this robbery was looking more and more suspicious. He smelled a rat here. What kind of thieves were these, that they overlooked obvious places that homeowners would keep money but went through the stored pictures looking specifically for those painted by Benjamin’s grandfather, even though they weren’t apparently worth anything? Just what was going on here? “Okay. Give me your statement again, and then you can call your insurance company and file a claim. Listen, I’d also suggest that you get a deadbolt lock for both of your doors, and have steel-core doors installed too. To deter these thieves if they try to come back for any reason.”

 

Benjamin looked disturbed and unhappy. “Do you think that they might?” he asked worriedly. Usually Jeddrick wouldn’t think so, but in this case…

 

“They might,” he replied. “And I’d suggest that you be ready when they do. Get a big dog or motion detectors and an alarm system. Maybe get a baseball bat. That’s a good non-lethal weapon to have around.”

 

Benjamin now began to look genuinely alarmed. “You mean I might have to hurt someone?!” he practically wailed. “I don’t think I can do that!”

 

Jeddrick sighed. “Better them than you,” he pointed out ruthlessly. “But I’ll tell you what,” he went on as Benjamin looked even more stricken at his words, “I can start doing once-a-day drive-bys of your place for awhile. A police presence might deter these guys from trying this again anytime soon. Okay?”

 

Benjamin brightened up immediately and gave him a grateful look. “Thank you, Deputy Curdy! I really appreciate this!” he cried. “Oh, and if you come by on your lunch break, I could feed you too!” he said brightly. “I’m a good cook,” he added temptingly.

 

Jeddrick considered this. Home-cooked meals as a reward just for doing a drive-by? He liked the sound of that. “All right,” he conceded. “I can do that.”

 

Benjamin looked pleased. “That’s great,” he said, sounding like he really meant it. Jeddrick felt as though he’d petted a St. Bernard puppy and made it happy.

 

“Well, then, I guess I’ll come by tomorrow,” he said after a moment. Benjamin came with him to the broken in door. “Thanks again, Deputy,” he said gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you like lasagna?”

 

“Uh, sure,” Jeddrick said, torn between amusement and bemusement as he walked away toward his cruiser.


End file.
